


Dramatic Flair

by MabelMine



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020), DC Extended Universe
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Description of Injuries, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:33:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27864642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MabelMine/pseuds/MabelMine
Summary: So, long story short, I made some new friends and those new friends introduced me to the wonders that is Roman Sionis and Victor Zsasz from Bird of Prey. This is gonna be a collection of little ficlets involving Roman and Victor being insufferable little drama kings and sappy murder machines.
Relationships: Roman Sionis/Victor Zsasz
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	1. Game Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first time writing and posting anything in a while haha. This was inspired by a conversation with some friends so I hope you enjoy it! The premise for this is basically, game night gone wrong. Everyone in Birds of Prey lived and worked through some issues. Also, Jason Todd is there solely because I asked the discord "Who's most likely to punch Roman Sionis?" and they all said, Jason Todd.  
> Warning, there is a mildly gross and graphic description of a broken nose and the setting of that broken nose.  
> Proceed with caution.

Roman has anger issues, sure. He’s got a handful of creative and illegal outlets for that rage and he’s proud to say that he’s never let something so trivial as a board game send him into a fit.  
Except that was a big fat lie, one that had gotten him into trouble. He clutched his face and nearly fell from his chair as Harley cackled across the table at him. “Jesus fucking christ you broke my fucking FACE!” Roman yelled. His voice was muffled and a little nasally as he held his bleeding nose gingerly. Across from him, a very smug-looking Jason Todd shook out his knuckles.

Harley bumped her fist with Cassandra next to her. “Next time, you might learn to watch that fuckin mouth! Jeeeezus Romy, you’re lucky I don’t rinse it out with soap!” She said. Roman wasn’t listening, his head buzzing from the impact of a fist and the horrifying realization that his nose was definitely broken. A broken nose meant a crooked nose and Roman Sionis didn’t spend all that money in ‘08 just to have his nose fucking broken by some dumb-  
He could feel Victor hovering at his shoulder. The blonde man had a white knuckle grip on the back of Roman’s chair. The other hand was in his back pocket where Roman knew he kept just one of many knives. He was just waiting for his boss to give him the word. Dinah was eying him up from across the table, ready to put herself between him and whoever the first victim of his employer's rage would be.

  
Roman huffed a bit and shifted, looking up at Victor. “How bad is it?” He asked. Victor’s eyes ran down his employer’s face, carefully calculating the best way to give his answer. “It ain’t pretty Boss.” He rasped out and Roman made a whining noise.  
“If you don’t get the bone set, it’s gonna come out all fucked up, but if we leave-”  
“We are not leaving!” Roman hissed, grabbing Victor’s lapels in one gloved hand. (They were both vaguely aware that the blood from Roman’s nose was now on this shirt and would not be coming out. It was fine. Victor had 10 like it in his closet anyway). “I am staying here and I am winning this godforsaken little game.”  
“It’s just Monopoly!” Cassandra piped up, only to be shushed by her other table mates. Sionis and Zsasz had electric chemistry in situations like this. They wanted to see what would happen.  
Roman grit his teeth and then let go of Victor’s shirt. “Set my nose.”  
“Boss?”  
“You heard me, fix my fucking nose or I’ll take this game board and bury it right up your-”  
Roman didn’t get a chance to finish his eloquent and incredibly creative threat.  
Victor stood up straight and then swung his leg over Roman’s lap, so now the blonde sat atop the brunette with both of them facing one another. Roman spluttered another curse word, maybe a few “What the hells?” but was again cut off. Victor, ever the loyal lapdog gripped Romans swollen, bloody nose between his hands and firmly shifted the bones back into a straight line with one, quick and sickening crunch. Cassandra gagged dramatically as Harley and Jason both winced with Dinah making an exaggerated ‘Ooooh’ shape with her mouth.

Roman gasped, blinking hard a few times, and shook his head. His eyes watered and he felt a twinge of relief in knowing that he'd chosen waterproof mascara today. His vision cleared after a moment and he swallowed hard, turning his head to look at Victor.  
“Why the fuck are you on my lap.” He muttered. His face felt warm and red but he firmly marked that down to the blood rush from his injury. Victor shrugged. “Dunno. Felt right.” He said simply.  
“Get off and get me a painkiller,” Roman muttered, jerking his throbbing head to the side. Victor nodded quickly, sliding off his lap as quick as he had sat down, walking briskly to fetch a pill bottle.  
Roman looked at the rest of the table and grit his teeth, rolling his eyes.  
“What, you can’t take a little PDA? Let's get this game over with already.”


	2. Makeup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor handles some things that have gotten harder since the accident at Founders Pier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you couldn't guess, these guys are basically dating. Also, I write most of these at 1 am then edit them the morning after, so there are a few errors usually. There's a reference to someone drugging a drink at the very end of this, but it's only mentioned. Hope you guys like it!

“You better not poke me in the eye,” Roman muttered, cracking open one eye. Victor stood over him, wielding a sharpened eyeliner pencil. “How long have I been doin’ this?” He asked. It was less a question and more a statement meant to make a point. Roman chose not to give him a verbal response and instead waved one hand in a flippant manner that meant ‘Well, get on with it then”. Victor settled and leaned over Roman. His left-hand gripped the back of the chair to steady himself while his right-hand kept the eyeliner steady. He started to slowly apply it to his partner’s closed eyes, savoring the moment. Roman Sionis smelled like hairspray and expensive shea butter moisturizer. It mingled faintly with Victor’s own distinct scent, cigarettes, name brand laundry soap, and the faintest tang of old iron. Victor leaned in closer. He indulged in the heat of Romans’ skin for a moment more before switching and lining his other eye. 

Roman’s hands shook with a barely imperceptible tremor on a good day, a heavy shiver on the bad ones. The combination of stress, physical injury, and trauma had gotten too much for him and led to a buzzing through his brain that found release in the constant movement of his hands. He hated it, and Victor knew he did. He’d learned to manage it through medicine and breathing and meditation, all the usual bullcrap. But knowing that certain things would never be the same still bit deep into Roman. 

At least he had Victor. The blonde was more than willing to pick up the slack and do a few extra tasks when Roman decided that he simply didn’t have the energy for it. Buttoning his cuffs, tying his ties, simple things. It felt nice to be in charge of some of Roman’s personal affairs. No, not in charge… allowed to help. Roman could do it on his own and certainly would if he had no other choice. There were some things that Roman allowed him to do, important things, things only Victor was skilled and important enough to handle. 

Things like doing Romans makeup. 

“Are you done?” Roman huffed, not moving a muscle in his carefully relaxed, unlined face.   
“Gimmie a second. Ain’t you always sayin, don’t rush perfection?” Zsasz said, a crooked smirk revealing one of his implants. Roman made a little ‘hmph’ noise and he took an extra moment to think on just how damn cute that was. A few seconds later Victor pulled away, setting the pencil on the desk. Roman waited a bit and then blinked, leaning closer to his vanity to observe his lapdogs work. “Alright, alright, that actually looks quite nice,” he said, standing from the chair and brushing off his impeccably embroidered jacket. 

“I’d hope so, I do it like every day.” Victor shrugged. Roman gave him an eye roll and leaned down to press a kiss to Victor’s earlobe. “Thank you.” He whispered quietly. Then furrowed his eyebrows, pulled back, and grabbed Victor’s chin between his thumb and forefinger.   
“Is that blood, I just smelled?” He asked. Victor’s face was a combination of a wounded puppy and an excited child. “Maybe,” He said evasively. That earned him a tighter grip, stubble bitting into Roman’s fingers. “Okay, okay, just a little.” He mumbled.   
“You weren’t having fun without me last night were you?” Roman cooed, raising an eyebrow.   
“Nuh-uh. Just taking care of those little fuckers from the bar last night.” He explained.   
“Which ones, the ones in the cowboy boots or the ones who tried drugging my drink?” Roman asked, letting go of Zsasz’s face. He picked up his gloves from the vanity while Victor rubbed at his jaw, a slow smile creeping on his face.   
“Both.” He said. Romans face lit up. He stepped close and patted a pleased looking Victor’s cheek.   
“Good boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to comment or leave suggestions!!


	3. Whats the word again?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor Zsasz is non-binary, uses he/they pronouns, and is an absolute thembo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this me, self projecting a bit? Maybe! Dont judge!

It wasn't like Victor was scared or anything. What did he have to worry about? Roman had power, sure, but it was all social power. Connections, money, reputation. Victor did not give a shit about that. Both he and Roman knew that Victor was a wild card. Unable to be persuaded by money, blackmail, or gossip. That's why he was valued so highly by Roman. As long as the club owner supplied him with a steady stream of interesting and fresh kills, he was loyal and willing. (There was also the little matter of them falling head over heels in love, but that was different.) In short, Roman couldn't really do anything to threaten Victor and Victor was strong enough to snap Roman in half if he even tried.

So why had he waited so long to actually bring it up?

He supposed it was because he got… for lack of a better term, too comfortable. Roman, as wild as he was, meant stability. Waking up in the morning in an actual bed, not an ever-changing alleyway. Being able to eat when he was hungry. Clothes probably worth more than his first apartment. He didn't take his new life for granted, and he certainly wasn't spoiled.   
Victor Zsasz could go back to living on the streets today and be perfectly happy. He didn't want to though and that was the problem. The streets didn't have Roman.  
That's what this whole thing was about wasn't it, the worry that things between them would change? It was the worry that, just by saying it, putting the idea on the table, one of Romans shifting, roiling moods would pop to the surface and decide that was the final straw. This would be it, and Victor would be out. 

Fuck. This was hard.   
It didn't help that this revelation he needed to bring up was fairly recent. Being with Roman had shown him an entire world he wasn't aware of. People from all over Gotham visited the club and while Victor usually didn't pay much attention to those he would be liberated from their mortal chains, some people caught his eye. Combine that peaked curiosity with access to the internet and the hitman had discovered a few things about himself. Rearranged labels and learned out which ones he wanted to let go and which ones he wanted to let stick.

“For christ's sake, stop fidgeting. You’ll chew a hole right through it.” Roman muttered. Victor glanced down and spit out the pen he’d been gnawing on absently. “Sorry Boss.” He mumbled.   
“It’s fine, fine.” He asked, not looking away from his newspaper. “What’re you worried about anyway?”  
“Nothin.”  
“You’ve been moping about for an hour now, just spit it out!” Roman huffed, folding up at the paper and fixing him with a look. Victor shrugged, forcing it to seem casual instead of petulant.   
“I dunno. Just… thinkin.”  
“Hm,” The rustling of pages as the paper was set down, “About what exactly?”  
Victor swallowed and forced the words from his mouth. “I think I might not be a guy.” He managed. Roman paused, furrowing his eyebrows, and then smoothing his expression when he remembered he’d get wrinkles. “What?” He asked, more confused than malicious.   
“I mean. What if I… I don't think I wanna be a girl or anythin, but I don't think I'm a whole guy neither, so what if I was uh… Fuckin, what's the word. Fuckin, Non-bannery.” He said, squinting at a spot on the carpet as he tried to remember the words.

Roman didn't say anything for a minute. “What?” He asked again. Victor felt the heat on his neck as he started to flush red. “I'm sayin, I aint a boy or a girl, I aint either.” He said, “M’ Non-bannery.”

“...Victor, it's Non-binary.” Roman said. 

“Oh. Well, yeah. That.” 

“Ok,” Roman said, rubbing his newspaper between his fingers. “Do you want me to use different names?”  
“What?’ Victor mumbled, still trying to figure out just what had happened. “Oh. Mmm, nah. Just keep callin me what y’always do. But, maybe, we could… try out they/them. Maybe he/they.” He said finally, slowly and methodically. Trying to make sure he was saying exactly what he wanted to.   
“He/they…” Roman said quietly, leaning back in his chair and letting the words roll over his tongue. “That's my guard dog there. And if you say one thing out of line… I’ll have them tear that stupid fucking tongue from your mouth.” He said, smirking. He looked at Victor lazily.   
“Like that?” He asked and Victor felt a small swell of adoration flutter in his chest.   
“Yeah. Yeah, just like that boss.”


	4. Victor, no, please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roman walks in on his partner making just, the dumbest of decisions

“What the fuck are you doing?” Roman asked and Victor looked up.   
They sat on the floor of Roman’s ridiculously large bathroom, smoking a cigarette and flipping through a magazine while resting with their back to the toilet. He was just in his silk PJ pants (last year's birthday gift from Roman) and his chest binder (bought as soon as he was hired).   
“M’doin my hair.” They said.   
“Yes, obviously Victor, but why?” Roman said, exasperation creeping into his voice. He leaned on the doorway of the bathroom, surveying the damage. He wasn't particularly upset about the mess on the counter, he knew Victor would clean up after he was done. He eyed up Victor, his hair slicked back with a white-yellow paste that gave off a caustic smell. “My roots were gettin long. You know I hate that.” Victor said, tossing the magazine aside and standing. “I only got like 5 minutes left.” They said as Roman walked into the bathroom. He picked through the refuse on the marble countertops until he found what he was looking for.   
“Oh my god, Victor, no!” He cried out. He held the packaging of Victor's hair bleach out between gloved thumb and forefinger like it would attack him if he got too close. “Is this SPLAT hair bleach? Christ Victor, you’ll fry your hair!” He whined, looking at Victor in disgust. 

Victor shrugged. “It’s cheap.” Was all he offered in explanation. Roman wailed.   
“It's- Fucking- You make more money than- Ugh!” He cried, tossing the packaging aside and throwing his hands in the air.   
“It’s just my hair boss, I’ll be fine!” Victor said as Roman grumbled.   
“You know very well how much I like your hair, Victor, I want you to take care of it,” Roman said, giving him a look. His partner sighed and shook his head, kneeling at the edge of the tub, then grimaced. “Uh, boss.” He muttered, sitting back on his haunches. Roman looked up from his phone, now online ordering way too much conditioner. “I forgot I can't really…” Victor gestured between the tub and their chest binder, indicating that the act of hunching over to rinse their own hair out would be incredibly restricting and uncomfortable. 

“See, this is why we get it professionally done.” Roman chided, setting his phone down. He slipped his gloves off and tossed them on the counter behind him, slipping off his suit jacket. He rolled up the sleeves on his shirt, navy blue, and knelt next to his partner.   
“I don't like people runnin their hands in my hair,” Victor muttered.   
“You don't have a problem when I do it.” Roman pointed out, turning on the water and checking the temperature. “Yeah, well,” He shifted around to get comfortable, “You’re different.”  
Roman felt something warm course through his chest when Victor said that. He didn't say anything and instead started to help Victor rinse the bleach from his hair. “You need a haircut.” He murmured after a few minutes in comfortable silence. “It’s getting really long.”   
He finished rinsing and pulled back, tossing a towel to Victor as he sat straight. “Might let it grow out,” The newly bleached blonde shrugged, toweling off, “Might let it get long.” They smiled a toothy grin at Roman.   
“Assuming it doesn't all break off from the copious amounts of toxic waste you just put in it.”  
“Awh, boss-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never worn a chest binder but I think that's accurate? Let me know if there's something I ought to change!


End file.
